UhhICanExplain's (slash)r(slash)RWBY MonCon Anthology!
by UhhICanExplain
Summary: A series of oneshots submitted for the fanfiction portion of the monthly /r/RWBY MonCon Contest. Entries vary in theme and characters. [MOST RECENT UPDATE - Character/Theme: Pyrrha/Happy Endings]
1. JANUARY 2015 - The Flipside

_**ARCHIVED FROM JANUARY 2015**_

 **Characters: Jaune, Pyrrha**

 **Theme: Shi- uh, Boats. Yeah.**

* * *

 ** _The Flipside_**

 ** _Description:_** ** _Team JNPR takes a boat towards their next mission, but a short trip can become agonizingly long once your stomach starts churning._**

* * *

 ** _Original Note:_ /u/PartFootball told me I should contribute more to the /r/RWBY subreddit, so I said, hell, why not? This is my submission for the January MonCon as well as my first fanfic. Like, ever. So don't hesitate to give me shit if it's bad. In fact I'm counting on it. Enjoy!**

"You know, I can't say I saw this one coming."

"Laugh it up, Arc."

The warm mid-March morning found Team JNPR on its way to their next assigned mission located in a bustling village off the western coast of Vale. The village was way too close to the city of Vale for there to be a direct airship route in between, so JNPR had settled on taking a ferry along the western coast to the village. All went seemingly well before the current situation arose – with Pyrrha unceremoniously heaving over the side of the boat and Jaune propped on the railing next to her, concerned as well as admittedly a little bit amused.

Jaune peered over the side of the boat. "Oh, what is that I see? Are those chunks of Pumpkin Pete's? Oh man, wait til the fans hear that their oh-so-perfect champion Pyrrha Nikos indulges in hypocrisy!" said Jaune with a wide grin.

Pyrrha gave with Jaune a withering glare, which seemed rather ironic, given her own withering condition.

Not giving up the chance to gloat for once, Jaune continued: "I do have to say, I really think the green in your face really accentuates your eyes-"

"Keep running your mouth and you'll be swimming in Pumpkin Pete's."

"And just who's gonna be throwing me overboard? You? You look a little busy right now."

"Then I guess once we're done here I'll just train you into next week."

Jaune shivered at the thought. "Well, considering just how much teasing I can get in while I can, it might actually be worth it."

Pyrrha halfheartedly chuckled before hurling once more into the ocean. "Ugh, I think that's the last of that."

"You sure about that?"

"Oh please, Jaune. I think I'd know when my stomach is completely empt- **hurk**!"

"Yep. That's what I thought. C'mon, Pyrrha, I've got experience with these types of situations. I know these things."

Pyrrha groaned as she slid down the railing of the boat into a semi comfortable sitting position. Or as comfortable as she could be. "That's a terrible ordeal to have to go through. If this is how you feel on an airship, then I sympathize completely."

Jaune laughed as he sat down next to her and handed her a water bottle. "Well I'm glad you decided to stoop down to my level to understand the plight of the common man."

"You know, I seriously _am_ going to kill you," muttered Pyrrha, a small smirk playing on her lips. "I guess this is just what I get for eating unhealthily for once."

"That can't be right. Nora and I had a bowlful, too, and I think we're doing okay. I mean, at least better than you," said Jaune as his partner rinsed her mouth with the water.

"Maybe it was food poisoning? Or maybe the milk was bad?"

"I'm still thoroughly convinced that it's because you don't do so well on boats."

"Nah."

"Didn't you say this was your first time on a boat?"

"That doesn't prove anything."

Jaune snickered. "You're starting to sound an awful lot like me." He frowned. "How have you never been on a boat before? I'd imagine every kid's been on at least one boat in their childhood."

Pyrrha gave him a sad smile. "You know I wasn't like every kid, right? My childhood was… a bit busy. I didn't get to _have_ a childhood, honestly."

Jaune nodded, remembering how much contempt she regarded her pedestal status with. "Well, I suppose if puking off the side of a boat is what you missed, I don't think you missed too much."

"You're so helpful." Pyrrha's sarcasm was not lost on the boy.

"I try my best."

The two sat in silence for a while, enjoying each other's company. Both of them sneaked looks at the other, occasionally making eye contact and laughing it off awkwardly, but neither able to come up with anything to say.

Finally, Pyrrha grumbled, "I'm pretty sure I have absolutely nothing left to vomit, but I still feel like all hell." She inched closer to the boy and gently laid her head on his shoulder.

Chuckling, Jaune reached his hands upwards and started massaging her head. "Who knew that the guy who gets sick on planes would get partnered with the girl who gets sick on boats? We're quite the odd pair, aren't we?" and before he could think it through, added, "It's like we were made for each other."

"You really think so?" murmured Pyrrha.

"W-well, I mean… sure, why not? Not to be too forward or anything. O-or wishy-washy! I mean… yeah. I think so."

The girl snuggled in closer. "Then why haven't you asked me out yet?"

Jaune sighed. He'd been kind of dreading the question in… well, question.

"Well, you know, ever since the dance, the Vytal Tournament started, and between that and midterms and training, we just haven't had time to just, well, hang out."

"Those sound an awful lot like excuses, Jaune Arc, and you know it."

"Yeah I do. You have to admit, I'm pretty good at coming up with them, right?"

She giggled weakly in his chest. "Nah."

Jaune moved one of his hands from Pyrrha's head to her back, which now faced away from him, and started rubbing. "I guess… I guess I'm just scared." This elicited a snort from the girl.

"Are you calling me scary? I'm a bit insulted, so thanks," she said irritably, although there was no venom in her voice.

Jaune stuttered, "N-no, it's not like that! It's just… it's just that you're very important to me. Super important. Like, almost as much family, but not quite. Because, y'know, you're kinda obligated to hold family more important due to societal norms and whatnot-"

Pyrrha reached a hand up and lightly slapped her partner on the cheek. "Get to the point, jackass."

Jaune took a deep breath and continued. "Well, since you're so important to me, if we started dating… it would… well… I guess what I'm trying to say is… I really don't want to fuck this up."

Pyrrha lifted her head up to face Jaune. She was so close to him that their noses were almost touching, and it made Jaune's breath stop. He looked deep into her emerald eyes, which, despite her sickly state, shown as bright as ever. She opened her mouth to speak, and he prepared his ears to hear whatever encouraging words that she always happened to have for him-

"You're an idiot."

Jaune blinked. "Uh. What?"

The girl rested her head back her partner's shoulder. "I suppose you already knew that though. And I suppose I should've expected it as well."

Jaune sulked. "How is _that_ supposed to make me feel better?"

Pyrrha shifted her head so that she could see him while keeping her head firmly planted on his shoulder. "You're overthinking it, Jaune. You never give yourself enough credit." She smiled. "It's funny, though. I suppose that's why you're such a good tactician. But you don't have to strategize a relationship. Just do what feels right."

Jaune glanced down at his partner, hands still working her back and shoulders. "I don't know. My gut's never gotten me into great places. And what if I do what I think feels right… but it's not?"

"Jaune. What do I keep telling you?" She leaned herself back up against him with effort. "You can't get it wrong if it's the truth."

The girl looked him straight in the eye and gave him a warm (albeit feeble) smile. "You're a really great person. The most amazing guy that a girl could have. And you've got a heart bigger than anybody I've ever known. Trust me on this one; you're not going to, like you say it, fuck this up."

Jaune soaked up Pyrrha's words, breathed deeply, and then gave her the grin that he knew she loved. He returned Pyrrha's loving gaze, and they each drank the other up with their eyes. After a minute or so, Jaune laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head. "So, after we're done here… do you wanna go out sometime? Maybe this weekend? Preferably not on a boat or a plane."

Pyrrha laughed softly and felt the heat rise to her face – followed by something else less pleasant rising. Jaune watched as his partner's expression changed from warm and blissful to wide-eyed and panicked. She managed to whimper, "Ask me later," before abruptly shooting to her feet, leaning over the railing, and upchucking once more into the world's toilet.

Jaune sighed as he got up and continued to rub her back. "So much for 'nothing left to vomit.'"

"Yo landlubbers!" Jaune looked over his shoulder to see Nora waving from doorway to the ferry's indoor space. "The captain says we'll be there in five minutes!"

"Oh thank God!" gasped Pyrrha between hurling. "I'm never going to get on a boat again if I survive this!"

Jaune gave her a smirk. "You know we have to ride a ferry to get back to Vale, right?"

The only response he received was a middle finger.


	2. JANUARY 2016 - Lady Lazarus

_**ARCHIVED FROM JANUARY 2016**_

 **Characters: Yang Xiao Long**

 **Theme: Justice**

 ** _Sidenote: Borders the line between T and M. Read at own discretion._**

* * *

 _ **Lady Lazarus**_

 _ **Description:**_ ** _"Is this not the justice you wanted?"_**

* * *

 _ **Original Note:**_ **So... that was a thing. January Moncon, yaaaaaayyyy...**

 **The story's title, Lady Lazarus, is a reference to the Sylvia Plath poem of the same name, which was actually a heavy influence on the overlaying themes of this story. The allegories are all there, if you're willing to go and dissect the piece.**

 **Also, I've been listening to the song "Lazarus" by David Bowie a lot recently, so there's that.**

 _Drip. Drop._

Through a small leak emitted the only source of sound in the small, dark space within the four enclosed walls. Yet the sound seemed only much more amplified between the walls.

Those walls…

In the short time that she had been there, those walls had become very familiar to her. Some of the stone was even stained with her blood at the spots where she had punched and punched until the bone of her knuckles had burst through the skin.

Those walls had become very familiar to her, indeed. Its familiarity reeked to her even as she lay motionless upon the floor.

Come to think of it, the floor was surely an acquaintance by now as well. Memories of desperately grasping at scraps of food off of the filthy, feces-covered floor as they fell from trembling fingers surfaced vaguely. Whether they were her hands or not, she did not know.

However, food was food. If it still had an edible quality, then she would eat it.

Still, food in too small of quantities provided not a veritable sustenance. It was barely enough food and water to keep her alive, and even so her body had not been able to produce a drop of aura in what seemed like forever.

Forever... it was hard for her to even remember exactly what that word implied.

Time itself had become a foreign concept. However much time had passed since she had been there, she had absolutely no idea.

Sometimes she wondered _why_ she had to be there.

And then she remembered.

Remembering hurt. It made her _burn._ Not with the fires of her since long-gone determination, but with pure _hatred._

Hatred at _them_. They, who wrongfully imprisoned, who shackled her in this godforsaken place, left with nothing but her name and an infamy that was not her own.

They, who left her to rot against the cold, cold stone floor, stained with dry piss and dirt.

They, who left her to open and reopen the gashes in her wrists made by the manacles that gnawed upon her skin like the teeth of dogs against stripped bones.

They, who left her to the open arms of her _hatred_. Oh, the _hatred._

In the back of her mind flashed the faces of those she once trusted.

With one mouth they expected great and wondrous things out of her as a huntress.

With the other, they spat on her.

She used to hope that it was some strange, twisted joke. And what a grand joke it was. They must all be laughing at her now.

The mere thought of it set her on fire, and she clenched her fists until the knuckles were white.

It hurt how much it burned. Past the hatred, there was… something else.

 _Pain_.

She could barely make it out past the overwhelming inferno of hatred, but she knew it was there. External or internal, she was no longer sure. At some point or another, it had all just seemed to meld together into a single, white-hot dagger burrowing in her back.

She wanted nothing more than to pull it out.

And when she could finally remove it, she would use it to strike vengeance at the ones who had chained her up like a feral beast.

Oh yes, she would make them burn dearly for their wrongdoings and their corruption of justice.

That would be her own justice, dealt by her own burning hand.

 _Drip. Drop._

The sound of leaking water broke her fiery stream of consciousness.

She remembered thinking once when they had first locked her away that surely, with a breach of the stonework allowing for water to seep in, there must be something that wormed its way out through the same hole.

It was a strangely philosophical thought. She blinked, surprised by the resurfacing of the memory and wondered what its relevance to her current situation was. Unable to find an answer, she dismissed it.

 _Drip. Drop._

Almost as an afterthought, she faintly wondered what her team could be up to.

* * *

 _Through the door permeated the horrific sounds of death._

 _Ruby shuddered as scream after scream emanated from beyond the Team RWBY dorm room, and although she could not see the carnage itself (nor did she wish too), the sound of flesh being rendered from bone was one that would haunt her for the rest of her life._

 _At this point in time, she wasn't even sure how much longer_ that _would last._

 _Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the shuddering form of a heavily injured Blake as she lay on the floor, a bloodied gash running through her side. Her face was pale and distorted in barely restrained agony, and as her eyes met with Ruby's, the redhead made out the distinct flash of fear in those eyes._

 _A panicked Weiss knelt in the rapidly growing pool of blood that spewed forth from Blake's wound, her shaking hands frantically trying to treat it with whatever resources and glyphs she could amass. Sweat rolled down her forehead, and despite the surmounting futility of the situation, the heiress's focus on the task remained resolute._

 _Ruby chanced a look out the dorm window, and her heart dropped as the world outside was blackened by hordes and hordes of Grimm. Bloody splotches of red along the ground marked the last stands of those either brave or foolish enough to face the oncoming stampede, and the Grimm of the sky blotted out the sun like storm clouds._

 _The redheaded huntress never imagined such a force of Grimm so vast before in her life, and it looked like something out of her worst nightmares._

 _Her mind was snapped back to the present as the cries of the dying from just outside the dorm grew louder still._

 _She glanced briefly at the door before turning to the heiress. "Weiss! Help me move all the furniture in front of the door!"_

 _Her teammate jumped, startled from her own tasks._

" _Ruby, you know I can't!" Weiss's voice cracked in desperation. "Blake is going to die if I don't –"_

 _A cold yet comforting hand reached up and grabbed the heiress's own, and she looked down to see Blake, her pale face smiling weakly at the heiress._

" _Don't worry… about me." Her voice barely came out as a whisper, and the faunus seemed to lose strength with every word._

 _Weiss hesitated, before nodding slowly and standing up to help her leader. Ruby could make out the tears streaming off of the heiress's porcelain face as she moved away from their wounded teammate._

 _They worked wordlessly for the next five minutes. There was no time left for conversation._

 _It wasn't long before all the available bookcases, dressers, and bedframes had been stacked up, and not a moment too soon, either. As Ruby shoved the last piece of furniture against the door, a loud SLAM resounded from the other side, and the redhead jumped back with a yelp._

" _Damn…" Ruby cursed, one of the few times in her life that she had used such language. She knew the consequences of their actions; even though they had temporarily blocked the Grimm from entering the room as well as buying themselves a little time, they had also effectively barricaded their only valid means of escape. Jumping out the windows meant suicide; the Grimm stampede would make sure of it._

 _Furthermore, the ghastly reality of their situation was slowly beginning to dawn on Ruby._

 _If their classmates and their teachers could not survive the onslaught of Grimm, then how could they possibly hope to live?_

 _A sudden roar from beyond the door made Ruby flinch, and only moments later, the claw of an Ursa burst through the door Shining-style. The three girls were showered in splinters, and they all recoiled backwards in pure unconscious instinct._

 _Ruby bit her lip hard, feeling a globule of blood sliding down her chin. Swallowing back her overwhelming sense of dread with an audible swallow, the redhead shakily pulled out Crescent Rose in scythe mode and pointed the business end towards the door._

 _She turned towards the rest of her team._

 _Blake had propped herself up against the back wall of the room and aimed Gambol Shroud in the same direction, its form shifted to gun mode. Her skin was deathly pale and, with the slippery combination of cold sweat and blood, her drenched hand seemed to slacken in its grip on her weapon, but there was an unmistakable intensity in her narrowed amber eyes that shined like a star on the verge of death._

 _Weiss herself had drawn Myrtenaster in one hand and raised the other to prepare several glyphs. The knuckles of the hand which held the sword were whiter than seemed humanly possible, and she waveringly turned her head towards Ruby to meet her leader's gaze, offering a forced, melancholic smile._

 _Ruby made herself smile back as reassuringly as she possibly could._

 _They knew how this would end._

 _The splintered hole in the door grew wider as the Grimm continued to chip against it._

 _Ruby's grip tightened on the scythe. She drew breath for the last time._

" _Yang… please be okay…"_

 _The door burst apart in a flurry of wood, and Ruby closed her eyes._

* * *

"… Is she awake?"

She barely heard the voices before coming to the realization that she was indeed awake.

Pushing past the haze of drowsiness that enveloped her consciousness, she reluctantly opened her eyes.

As dimly lit as the cell was, light still flooded her field of vision, and she squinted against the discomfort as, slowly but surely, her eyes adjusted When she could finally bear to keep her eyes open, a strange sight met her.

As per usual, she observed her surroundings from the sideways perspective of the recovery position. The door of her prison cell, which usually remained shut for as long as she had remembered, was propped open. In her immediate sight stood three people, all of whom she recognized after some forethought; they were students from Haven, if she recalled correctly. She didn't exactly remember their names at first – there was the green-haired girl who had apparently become fast friends with her sister, and the mysterious dark-haired woman who usually accompanied her. Against the doorframe, eyes closed and a smirk upon his face, leaned the familiar form of –

No. It couldn't be. It was impossible.

She had broken his leg. By all means, he should _not_ be standing.

And yet, there the bastard, adding insult to her injury just by being present.

Her widened eyes flashed red, and the rage came flooding back into her being with a vengeance.

" _You._ "

Mercury's eyes cracked open, and he gave her sideways glance that simply oozed arrogance. "Me."

Her teeth clenched tightly, and she strained her scabbing wrists against the shackles with renewed fervor. Her throat was parched and gravelly as she began to spit at the man.

"You! You put me here, you bastard! I'll kill you! I'll fucking you! I'll –"

"Silence."

The dark-haired woman spoke, and some strange quality in her voice commanded an audience. The struggling stopped almost instantly, and narrow red eyes fixed upon the woman, who knelt down towards the sole prisoner of the room.

"You are Yang Xiao-Long." It was not a question, but rather a statement which was spoken in a manner that seemed to convey that the woman knew much more than she let on.

"Eliminated in the one-on-one rounds by matter of disqualification. Imprisoned for attacking and injuring another student without provocation. One of Beacon's brightest, committing such a heinous act…" The woman smiled thinly. "It makes you wonder what kind of repugnancy they must be teaching at such a highly esteemed establishment."

The red eyes burned even brighter, almost creating its own flame by sheer intensity. "That's not true at all and you know it! Your asshole teammate, who attacked _me_ , is standing there like I didn't even touch him. How? _How!?_ That's not possible…"

Venom spewed from her mouth like a geyser, and with a mighty effort, she lifted her head to fix her hateful stare upon the gray-haired man. "You attack me, trick me, and frame me so that I get locked up and starved while you continue to walk free? What the hell is this _shit_? I should slay you where you stand, you… you… you son of a bitch…" Spittle flew from her mouth in frenzy, and her body thrashed once more against her restraints.

"Very original," drawled Mercury, rolling his eyes. "But you don't even have the strength to stand - unlike me, of course." He strolled over to her with a cruel smile. "Look at you, barking and snarling about. You're just a dog now. And you know what I do with dogs like you?"

The grey-haired man leaned over her and grinned. "I kick you."

In a deft motion, he drew his leg back and drove the toes of his boot into her stomach, and with a horrible choking noise she doubled over and spat out a mouthful of blood.

"That's enough, Mercury." Through her sudden deprivation of air and the sudden crippling pain, she barely registered the older woman's commanding tone. Gasping for breath, she heard the man sigh in exasperation before walking away from her now fetal form.

As the fog of agony cleared away from her mind, she warily shifted her focus back to the woman, who continued to kneel by her, the faint smile still persistent on that face.

"It really _is_ a shame that this is where your story has led up to, Yang Xiao-Long," purred the woman in mocking tone. "From what I heard, you could have made a very powerful huntress, someone whose strength might have been something I would've had to watch out for."

It only made her madder that this one was complimenting her in the most disingenuous way.

The woman reached a hand to softly caress her battered cheek, and she flinched at the touch. "But fear not, my dear. There is still a use for you yet, a role for you to play that is indeed a very important catalyst for change in the history of our world as we know it."

Her brow furrowed but she remained silent, save her hitched panting.

Smiling wider, the older woman continued. "You are aware that Grimm are attracted by negativity, right? Well... no matter. Your prior knowledge of such is not important. However, I believe it's only common sense that the amount of Grimm that appear in a central area is directly proportional to the amount of negativity emitted by such a place. The more vileness, the more uncertainty that a place has, the more Grimm it attracts."

Fingers slowly came to rest upon the her perspiring forehead, and they stroked about in a circular motion. "So tell me, when you were attacked, when you were deceived, when you were wrongfully incarcerated… how did that make you feel? Did it make you angry? Did it make you… hate? Did you let it fill you up, let it control your emotions? Did you let it burn within your heart?"

She continued to glare, but the red flare of her eyes dulled slightly to give way to a spark of uncertainty. In the midst of her rage and hatred, she began to do the best possible thing in the worst possible time.

She was beginning to understand.

And still, the dark-haired woman smiled even more, those lips beginning to resemble a Chelsea grin in the low light.

"You are a very unique individual, Yang Xiao-Long. Your powers are exemplary when your rage becomes you. You _thrive_ for it. The rage… it fuels you. And when a hatred burns inside your heart… for someone like you, one can almost taste the hate pulsing off of you. You're like an amplifier for hatred, in that regard. And of course, when you have such a powerful source of such negative energy, Grimm are only bound to come in droves."

If time hadn't already stopped for her long ago, then it most certainly ground to a halt as her ears were forced to listen.

"I must say I'm impressed," the commanding, arrogant voice proclaimed. "You're a very powerful person indeed. I never thought it quite possible for someone to emit so much pure negative energy. In fact, your power is quite literally changing the world, and it will help us herald in a new age, one that will certainly make its mark on Remnant. It's... unfortunate that you won't be able to see the fruits of your labor. The Grimm are taking over Vale and the Vytal Festival as we speak, and it's all thanks to you."

"No…" Dread began to fill up her whole being, like frigid water running down the spine of her back, and she could feel the once raging red of her eyes snuffing out into a fearful pale lilac. "Please, no…"

"Hmph." The woman let out a self-satisfied laugh. "However, I suppose I should tell of all that you have accomplished in the role that you have been given. Even as you lay there, unable to move, you've brought upon this city more Grimm than any one person has ever seen, let alone fathomed. Every poor soul that walks outside forfeits his life, and every one else, huntsmen or civilians, will find that hiding is pointless."

It couldn't be true... a world so bright and vibrant... surely it could not die so easily?

"I've heard a rumor from the little black birds around that even the headmasters and students are preishing by the second. Actually, I'm not even sure that any of them are still left alive, but if they still foolishly cling to life, then they surely must be on their death throes."

"The… students?" She felt her voice tremble with growing dread. She shook her head violently, hoping desperately for it all to be wrong. "No... Ruby… please..."

"Hmm?" For once in the entire one-sided conversation, the woman seemed to respond to her. "But is this not what you want? Those who wronged you, who sent you away for a crime you did not commit – did you not want them to pay? Did you not want to exact your revenge on them?"

She felt her chin being cupped, but as much as she tried to worm away, the evil woman's face loomed only inches away from her own.

"Is this not the justice you wanted?"

She wished for an answer, a sharp retort, any firm denial to spring forth from her mouth.

Instead, her lips could only whimper in response.

Apparently satisfied with this answer, the dark-haired woman stood back up. "I'll let you bask in your accomplishments thus far. We'll have plenty of time to talk later, as your achievements grow even greater."

"Wait, Cinder." The green-haired girl objected. "Haven't you just taken away her hatred? How is she supposed to help us now that she has no means to draw in the Grimm?"

"Patience, my dear Emerald," chuckled Cinder. "The only negative emotion that's stronger than hatred is despair. Despair does wonders to tear down even the greatest of civilizations; her despair will feed our cause nicely."

Once more those glowing jack-o-lantern eyes turned towards her, and she tried to withdraw herself away from them.

"You should be happy, now that your accusers will no longer bother you. Congratulations, Yang Xiao-Long; justice is yours."

With that, Cinder walked out of the prison cell, beckoning the other two with a hand. Wordlessly, Emerald followed.

Mercury was the last one in the room. As he lazily made his way out, he turned towards the shackled girl once more with a wicked grin.

"This is why I'm on top… and why I'll keep stomping you down."

He slammed the door shut behind him.

And just like that, it was just her and those dark four walls again.

Shivering, she realized how much colder the room had become, and she knew now that she was empty. All of her anger, all of her rage, all of her… _hatred._

It had ceased to burn.

She shivered without end, the cold inside and outside her eating away at her fortitude.

 _No… why… why did this have to happen?_

Grief. Grief did not burn. It sank in the pit of her stomach, like the brisk air in the cell.

 _Ruby… it's all… my fault… I did this…_

Grief did not burn. It gripped with its icy digits and threatened to drown her.

 _Blake… Weiss… I'm so sorry…_

She'd be the first to accept that life was not fair. It never had been to her, even in childhood.

But this… this was beyond anything she could ever bear.

 _How ironic… that my hatred and my anger killed everyone who meant anything dear to me… and I, whose hand dealt their deaths, am forced to live…_

 _My hate… that consumed them all… I am saved from it before it could kill me._

She did not cry. The tears inside her had frozen solid.

She did nothing. There was nothing she could do.

She wanted to die.

 _But I can't die… because they will force me to live… so that I can continue to kill…_

 _Why?_

 _Why won't they let me die?_

 _I just want to die…_


	3. MARCH 2016 - Against the Gradient

**_MARCH 2016_**

 **Characters: Pyrrha Nikos**

 **Theme: Happy Endings**

* * *

 _ **Against the Gradient**_

 _ **Description: Sometimes the dead are fated to walk through limbo for all eternity, forever incomplete in death. Sometimes, however, fate grants you your Orpheus.**_

* * *

She continued to walk.

She didn't really know why, but all she knew was that she had been walking for a long time and that all she could do was to continue walking.

Come to think of it, she couldn't remember when she started walking.

But she did so anyway, and so did everyone else.

All these other people – so many other people – surrounding her in their shroud.

She chanced a look at them.

They all seemed to lack color, the same gray arms clutching the same gray cloaks that covered each gray body. Every face, although obscured by the hoods of their robes, was unique to each's own yet somehow featureless to her, and they all stared blankly ahead as these fading wisps of people continued to walk, all in the same direction.

It wouldn't have surprised her if she wore the same dead face with the same dead eyes.

Onward her feet marched, disturbing the wayward mists as the landscape of this plane remained unchanging. There was no darkness, no light. No geological features marked where they had been or where they would be going, and the immediate vicinity was washed black and white by the shadows of the masses as the rest of the plane faded into an unknowing absence of color.

She did not question it, for she had no questions to ask and no answers to gain.

No knowledge to learn, no reward to prosper from, no purpose to be had.

No whats, now whys, no whens, no hows.

Everything just _was_.

And she was too, as far as she could tell. She was herself, yet she was the same as everyone else. She was something, yet she was nothing.

Still she did not question it. It meant nothing to her.

So instead of pondering why her entire being felt devoid of all emotion or individuality, she continued to walk amongst the mists, its achromatic tendrils never ending and never changing as the lethargic army marched further towards nowhere at all.

She shivered slightly, her hands pulling her own gray cloak closer around her neck and body. There was no actual cold to speak of on the path she walked, so perhaps it was more an absence of warmth that chilled her so, and for a fleeting moment, it made her happy to even register the illusion of feeling.

But happiness did not live in these parts, and the bright hint of a spark inside of her chest swiftly desaturated into the nothingness, and she trudged on. Through the nothing they proceeded, the mists echoing with a deafening silence.

A shoulder bumped into her.

It was the most fleeting of moments, but as short as it was… it was enough. Instantly, her back straightened, and she did something that she hadn't done in what seemed like forever.

She stopped moving.

Halting her weary feet, she turned her head to face the figure who had brushed by her. A new feeling filled her, one that she had perhaps forgotten in the winds of time.

She was puzzled.

Something in the figure's touch had resonated within her. This person, entity, or otherwise stood out vastly from the rest of the mob, who barely noticed its presence. It stood much straighter than anyone else who walked, and even with its own cape-covered back towards her, it radiated with purpose and distinctiveness, so much so that it glowed a faint but very discernible yellow, like a lone lit candle floating down the River Styx.

Amongst the veil of gray, its faint radiance still shimmered brightly, and she had to shield her eyes partially with her arm, which was bathed in its own yellow tint from the glow. But its contrast of color was not what drew the most wonderment from her.

The figure was walking away from the mob, not with it.

Her chest bubbled from a flurry of muted emotions, ranging from confusion, to curiosity…

… And eventually to hope.

She glanced around herself, nervous and afraid, as the specters walked onward, unaware of the sight transpiring before them.

She glanced back at the figure, who itself had not stopped its own walking, and yet even without acknowledging her existence, its presence beckon at her whole being.

Her breath, once slow and monotonous, hitched.

Wide-eyed and groaning mutely with effort, she deliberately turned on her heel to face against the horde.

And with every fiber of her being, she willed herself to walk.

Step by laborious step, she pushed on against the will of the mob as the gray bodies slowly lumbered past her, leaving trails of shadows in their wake. More and more bodies mashed against her in a careless manner, as if apathetic to her plight, assuming they had the capacity to emulate apathy. It took even more effort and willpower than she had initially pulled from inside herself to push past the mob as it shoved her own form every which way.

But she paid them no mind. Instead, she simply forced herself harder against the mist's long, grasping fingers, never once letting the glowing figure out of her sight. She noticed passingly that while she struggled against the mob with a tremendous effort, it seemed as if the sea of bodies had parted for it, as if repelled by it.

Time was arbitrary, but soon enough her struggling against bodies seemed much easier than before and she realized with surprise that she had suddenly reached the last few dregs of the horde. Her surprise melted into relief as the rest of the stragglers finally walked past her, and as she watched them pass her by, the specters continued their desolate march into the gray void of the mists.

Turning back around, she realized that the glowing yellow figure, who was a much further distance away, had stopped walking, as if waiting for her to catch up. Like the eventuality of time, she gradually made her way towards it until only a few meters separated them.

She drew to a stop, patiently waiting for the figure to lead on.

From where she stood, she could make out the figure's head twisting slightly, as if attempting to glimpse at her before hesitating. After a long moment, it turned its head back forward and began to walk once more.

She tried to perceive the being's intention of turning its head before following after it. A small part of her lamented that she still hadn't seen its face.

Their journey away from the horde continued, and after what seemed like a while, the gray fog of the world slowly but surely began to clear. It wasn't much longer afterwards that the mists seemed to disappear completely.

As the veil of shadow dissolved away, her fingers began to tingle. Slightly, very slightly at first, but the feeling spread like wildfire, and she felt yet another first in a while as the feeling returned to her limbs and extremities. The tingling became a buzzing, and the buzzing grew until her body felt like it was made of bees. Just before the sensation became unbearable, the buzzing subsided as quickly as it had come, and with its departure, her cold limbs were washed with warmth.

She chanced a look at her hands as they grasped around her robes. Where they once were gray and pallid, color was beginning to seep back through the notches in her skin, and soon her hands were painted a faint, rosy pink hue. Even the cloak itself had grown from gray to faded burlap brown.

She glanced back up at the figure in front of her, who in the moment almost casually discarded its own cloak onto the amorphous ground that they tread upon. Following its suit, she quickly shed her robe and let her curious mind study the being before her.

With its cloak discarded, the being took on the more definitive and somewhat familiar form of a man with a body molded by war. He wore shining white plate armor upon almost all of his body, and his pale hair appeared unkempt and long. A sheathed hand-and-a-half sword swung by his hip, and he carried himself with determination. Furthermore, the diminutive yellow glow that had emanated from his being had now grown into a brilliant golden radiance, and he shined like a beacon among the drab landscape.

Within the depths of her soul rushed forward a symphony of emotions, almost forcing her tired feet to a stagger as she beheld the man before her. Her weak being gave way to hope, to strength, to happiness, to resolve…

But one feeling within her overcame the rest.

Love.

Love that had emerged in her by looking upon this man, this very familiar man.

She loved him.

And suddenly, she remembered why she had to walk.

She had to return. Back to her friends, her family, back to her home, all of which needed her now more than ever.

Back to the man she loved, and had loved her back for all that she was, perhaps without even really knowing it.

As she stared upon the backside of the figure and let her new-found purpose wash over her, a pinprick of light flashed in the distance, and the figure walked towards it.

She followed.

Swiftly, the light grew larger and larger, and before she had time to register its existence, they were almost upon the light as it stretched its blinding reach in through the edges of the colorless plane and up through the cracks in the colorless sky.

The figure stopped abruptly, and, following closely behind, she almost collided into him. Bewildered, her brow furrowed, and she opened her mouth as if to silently question him.

Once more, he turned his head slightly towards her without directly looking at her, and still she could not see his face.

Hesitantly, the figure reached out a hand behind him, towards her.

She blinked, staring at his outstretched hand, and placed her own hand within his, the corners of her lips turning upward.

The figure nodded at her, and faced back forward.

Hand in hand, side by side, they walked forward into the light as it bathed their bodies in its quintessence until all that remained of the world was the light and their faint forms within it, him with his thick, scraggly blonde mane, and her with her long, immaculate red hair.

In the back of her mind, she heard his voice.

" _I knew you'd follow me, Pyrrha. Thank you."_

* * *

 **There was a lot of elements that went into this one. Obviously, with Pyrrha being of Greek origin, you begin to wonder about how big a part the Greek Underworld could potentially play in RWBY lore, especially since Achilles was later found among the dead in Homer's Odyssey.**

 **The Orpheus and Eurydice spin also originated from Greek mythology. It ties in quite nicely with the Underworld ideas, and although the original story was rather tragic in nature, this was supposed to be about "Happy Endings," and also... I like Pyrrha. A lot. I'm not about to send her plunging back down the depths of the Underworld. Again.**

 **Ultimately the overarching theme that I went with here was "Color." I mean, in case you couldn't already tell with me beating the word "gray" over your head every ten words. But in any case, incorporating that into the story was a delight - color is imperative to make a story stand out imagery wise, and it can also effect the way people feel. So I always get a kick out of messing with certain elements to elicit specific emotional responses. The challenge here was pacing it all out so that you'd start with completely bleak and hopeless and gradually filling it with color to (quite literally) bring it back to life.**

 **... Well, now I feel like a real art snob with all these long-winded explanations. Hope you enjoyed reading all that.**


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